Mythborn: Rise of the Adepts (55 page)

"Snake meat? I heard it tastes like—"

"Snake." She sighed, then said, "What do you want?"

The man who walked up to her looked to be in his twenties, with faded blue eyes and dark hair that had not yet seen the lightening of the summer sun’s kiss. A small smile played on his lips, as if humor lay on the tip of his tongue. The corners of his eyes crinkled, familiar lines of a face used to laughing. "Same as always. You seem determined to live out here."

"And you keep visiting. Who is the bigger fool?"

He bowed, conceding, "The answer is clear."

She snorted and said, "Silbane the Fool. Nice ring to it."

Silbane smiled, taking no offense. He moved over to a log and sat down. "We’re not giving up."

"We?" she asked, wary again.

"I brought a friend," he said, nodding to his left.

From thin air stepped a second man, older, perhaps in his thirties. He smiled at Kisan, then said, "I knew your mother, and offer my sorrow at her passing."

"You’re a month late," Kisan said through pursed lips. She and father are buried over there, if you want to visit them." She said this while pointing with her chin. "But you can leave me alone."

"Your mother was powerful in the Way and has taught you some of its uses. Come with us, and we will complete your training."

She rolled her eyes at that, then looked back at Silbane. "Has everyone suddenly become more stupid? Breaking the King’s Law will only get me killed."

"The Magehunters will not spare you because you have not been trained. You are only making it easier for them."

"How long do you think you can hide out here?" This came from the older man. "Your mother was a gifted initiate, and yet she fell."

Kisan moved away from them, taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm. The two men followed her, but kept a respectful distance behind. She walked in silence, knowing they wouldn’t give up and running would solve nothing.

"Maybe you think you’re like one of these sky serpents. Fast, agile, deadly?" The older man scoffed behind her, "Take a good look at yourself. Calling you ‘dirty’ would be a compliment to dirt."

"Are you trying to be mean?" she spun and asked in exasperation. When there was no answer, she moved farther along the forest floor. "I’ve been here since they died. No one’s found me."

"No one is looking for you... yet."

Silbane stepped in and offered, "Maybe my friend is a bit too direct, but if we can find you, so can they."

She stopped, her shoulders hunched, then turned and faced them both. "Don’t you get it? The Magehunters killed
everyone."

The older man began to say something but she cut him off, "No! I’m done with this. Leave me alone and don’t come back!" A small flame appeared then, surrounding her. It was faint, almost invisible to anyone who could not see the Way, but Silbane could not hide his astonishment. Neither could the older man.

Silbane cleared his throat and said, "You’ll not win through anger. Come with us, learn to control your growing powers."

Kisan shook her head, Silbane’s persistence infuriating her further. What was it that made him so obtuse? She was not about to put herself in harm’s way. Learning magic would only make her a target for the Magehunters to come back and finish the job, just as they had with her mother.

Before she said anything however, the older man turned on her and she could see he was angry. "I’m through listening to your childishness, Kisan Talaris," he said. "We may not return, but others will. The Galadines have a long arm, and they’ll not suffer a mage to live, untrained or not. Learn everything you can from these serpents you fancy. They are hunters too, and yet they fall even to your inept blade. What lesson does that teach you?"

Kisan didn’t say anything right away, as she was caught a little off balance by the man’s willingness to suddenly abandon her. She had not expected him to give up so easily. Her focus narrowed and she asked, "What’s your name?"

"Why do you care?" he replied. "For all your Talent, you’re thick-headed and stubborn. You’re not a sky serpent, just pathetic and useless, like your pet bird. And within another month, you’ll both be dead." With that, the man turned, took two steps, and vanished.

Silbane gave her an apologetic smile, and snapped his fingers. A sparkle flashed then fell to his feet. She could see it still glittering where he stood, as if he left behind bits of... something. "If you change your mind, you can follow this and join us. We will depart tomorrow at dusk and this trail will disappear." He met her eyes and gave her another small smile. "I hope to see you before then."

He raised a hand in farewell, then faded into nothingness. But the glittering trail appeared, moving through the woods in a relatively straight line toward the coastal city of Sunhold, a half day’s walk away. Most likely to catch a boat, she surmised.

Later that evening she sat, hunched in front of a campfire, chewing absentmindedly on sky serpent meat while her mind seethed. How dare he call her pathetic? Had he ever lived on his own? What had he ever lost? Probably born into wealth, suckling milk from some fat cow of a nurse in some grand castle filled with servants and food. The more she thought about him, the angrier she became.

Behind her stood a small shelter, built out of branches and leaves. In it were the few things she had salvaged, scrounged after the Magehunters had razed her village. She had been safe only because of her timing and luck. She had been gone that day, hunting, as she often did, deep within the forest. Her return had been a harsh end to childhood. Exactly twenty-nine days ago, her life had changed forever.

She looked up and could still see the sparkling trail, winding its way through the trees. The stillness of the forest and the silver moonlight seemed to intensify the effect, showing her a way quite literally to her own future, if she chose to follow it. What lay along that bright path? What happened if she stayed?

She took whatever stock she could of her life, and though it was not with the deep rumination of one with years behind them, the tragic end of her childhood had forced her to grow up faster than most. She accepted she had no family, no home, that everyone she knew was dead. How long could she truly live out here alone?

As the night wore on, her reasons for refusing Silbane’s invitation seemed less and less clear. She was still angry, but questioned herself honestly, a habit she had recently found useful to her survival. How long would it be before the Magehunters returned? Was she just being stubborn?

When morning came, it greeted an empty shelter. Anything she valued had been packed up, but one small task remained. She moved over to a dense bush, reached into her pouch, and withdrew the direhawk chick, still complaining, and the rest of her grubs. She undid the string from its leg and carefully nestled it in, then scattered the grubs around for it to eat.

"Don’t eat it all at once, stupid bird."

She knew it would perish, likely killed by the very serpents it helped her catch. Nothing left alone out here survived for long, a point the older man had made so abundantly clear. The message had sunk in, but she still hated him for it.

The chick sat there with its small beak wide open. When it realized that nothing more was coming from Kisan, it turned its attention to the grubs and grabbed one, swallowing it hungrily before moving to a second. Kisan drew a deep breath and watched in silent thought. Then, with a curse, she moved over and grabbed it, stuffing it back into her pouch amidst a small flurry of flapping wings, cheeping complaints, and a painful peck for her efforts.

Anything soft about her had died with her family, but she still found herself unable to abandon the direhawk chick to its fate. Finding it alone and injured, she had nursed it back to health. Soon it would be able to fly and grow into a deadly raptor of the air. She was not ready to give up on it, not before it had a fair chance. With the obtuseness of youth, she never considered anyone else could feel the same way about her.

Instead, she remembered Silbane’s friend calling her helpless and pathetic and let out a small, derisive laugh. He had no idea she had already mastered much of what her mother could do and a few things she couldn’t. She looked over her shoulder at the sparkling trail, then grabbed her pack and blade. Securing them, she made her way along its glittering path, listening all the while to her chick continue its complaints.

"You don’t know me," she said, addressing the memory of the other man, the one with Silbane.

The one-sided conversation cooled her anger a bit but left her unsatisfied, so she turned her attention back to the forest and the path, winding ahead through the sun-dappled undergrowth. She had to admit starting this journey filled her with a strange excitement, and as the morning crawled on her mood lightened. For the first time in a while, Kisan felt anticipation at what the rest of the day might bring.

Above her, she thought she heard the cry of an adult direhawk making a kill, and the sound brought a faint smile to her lips. Her eyes then flitted down, sparkling with power as she focused on the scintillating trail once again. Somehow, she knew only she could see it, a path left by the Way for her and her alone.

The chick had settled down in the comfy darkness of the soft pouch. Saving it wasn’t only kindness or altruism, she admitted then with a touch of guilt, for Kisan knew bringing her bird along would serve to infuriate the older man. The thought tugged the corner of her mouth up in an impish grin. The vision of their surprised faces as she appeared in Sunhold only made her smile more.

He thinks I fancy sky serpents, like I actually want to
be
one? He was stupid and wrong. There were things far deadlier in this world than snakes or birds, evil things living in the hearts of men. She had learned this firsthand when her family had been butchered. They had been hunted and lived their lives in fear until the very end.

I’m going to master everything you have to teach, she vowed silently, no matter how long it takes. Her eyes glittered with that promise and the burgeoning power that lay behind it. Then I’ll finish the job, one Magehunter at a time.

H
AVEN

When you are the anvil, be patient.

When you are the hammer, strike.

—Altan proverb

T
he team waited under cover of night, within sight of the walls of Bara’cor. They had docked in Haven a day before, handing the boat off to waiting dockhands, specially contracted by Arsenal to give them discrete access to the capital city and beyond. These dockhands would also dispose of the boat and any other evidence of their arrival.

From there they had made their way quickly up the Land’s Edge pass. Kisan wondered again at the conditioning of these dwarves, who ran for hours at a stretch with the same ease as a normal person breathed.

It was during one of these prolonged runs that she finally attempted contacting the lore father, having regained enough energy for the attempt, and having become comfortable with the conclusion that none of these men could mindspeak themselves.

At first, she heard nothing. Then, strangely, she heard Adept Giridian’s voice. The moment they made contact, though, Kisan knew her old friend was an adept no longer, but the new lore father. She could feel the other’s newfound might, but what had happened? In an instant, both had conveyed to the other the events that had transpired since their separation.

Giridian confirmed what Kisan already knew, these "men" were in fact dwarves. Upon hearing of Themun’s death, however, the master nearly lost step with the others.

Arguments happened, but they were the result of those who felt passionate about their own stance. Kisan held no ill will at their last confrontation at council. The old lore father had been a mentor, a wise teacher skilled in the Way, and he had been a close friend.

She knew they had lost Thera and had feared Dragor dead as well. Her grief was only balanced by the fact that Dragor lived, saved by the lore father’s final illusion. Kisan breathed a sigh of relief as the burden of Dragor’s last sacrifice lifted from her heart.

The children with Thera were a different story. The memory of Piter welled up, and Kisan knew how the parents of those lost felt. A cold anger grew in her heart, a need to exact vengeance upon these assassins who cared nothing for their victims or the families that suffered in the wake of their passing. She would not forgive. They had performed their atrocities on the Isle thinking it had all been real. Despite the lore father’s final illusion, not one death, real or not, was removed from their hands.

Giridian shared his vision about Valarius in council and Thoth next, but because of the distance, Kisan could not be given the full immersion of the experience that touch required. She could, however, feel the profound impact it had on the lore father and his beliefs. It was more than enough.

Arek posed a danger and he had committed murder when he took Piter’s life. That fact alone condemned him in her eyes, but the needs of the mission had taken precedence. Now, with his denunciation by the Conclave
and
Lore Father Giridian, Kisan was free to act, but what she should do was still unclear.

Kisan related the dwarven team’s orders to find and kill Arek and the royal Galadine family inside Bara’cor. Given that fact, were their interests in conflict? Also, what were her
actual
orders? Was she being ordered to help these assassins seek out and kill an apprentice they had trained since he was a child, aid the same men who had killed Lore Father Themun Dreys?

What troubled her more was the knowledge that if this "Conclave" could direct their hand against Arek, why not the Isle itself? That knot of worry she found was more difficult to unravel. Measured against the fate of the world, the lives of Themun, Thera, or of everyone on the Isle would be a small price to the Conclave—a price they would not hesitate to pay if they thought they were right.

Of Silbane, Kisan had heard nothing. What were her orders concerning the other master? Silbane would not allow his apprentice to come to harm and Kisan could not fault him for that. Her doubt and weariness came through the connection to the new lore father, who could empathize, but decisiveness was needed.